


Hordés Aímatos/Blood Strings

by KenrakenOkwaho



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Ancient Greece, Assassin's Creed (Video Game), Character Study, Child Death, Cult of Kosmos (Assassin's Creed), Denial of Feelings, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Family Drama, Greek Mythology - Freeform, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incest, Introspection, Kissing, Light Angst, Nightmares, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wordcount: Over 10.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenrakenOkwaho/pseuds/KenrakenOkwaho
Summary: Nothing new really, just a bit of introspection on Alexios' aka Deimos' part when he finally meets Kassandra.UPDATE: Weeell, this turned out to be more than I initially planned :))After the first encounter with his newfound sister, "Deimos" develops quite a few unwelcome feelings towards her. It soon becomes overwhelming, so the only thing he can do is seek help from an unexpected source. It turns out to be more than he bargained for.





	1. Πρώτες Eντυπώσεις/Prótes Entypóseis/First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I quite like the storyline of Odyssey so I thought it might be interesting to try my hand at weaseling into Alexios' character, to give him some kind of unicity since Kassandra is canon, and he's not. 
> 
> I hope the tags don't bother you. It's quite a tame one shot, they don't even know they're siblings yet. 
> 
> UPDATE: It's quite a tame multi-chapter story. For now, at least. He, he.
> 
> Enjoy, and, if you'll be so kind, leave your feedback in the comments. Cheers!

The moment they touch the Pyramid, staccato images flash before his mind's eye, memories that aren't his own, yet he somehow feels connected to. They are so vivid, so... painful... the sound of laughter mingling with the cries of sorrow as they echo in his head even after his hand isn't touching the artifact anymore.

 

Damn it! His heart beats faster, threatening to burst through his chest while he tries to suppress the tremors racking his body. Fury, helplessness, confusion... every emotion that he has been trained to eliminate along with his humanity now besets his senses ruthlessly, clouding his thoughts. The urge to rip the woman's mask off is strong. It gets stronger when she whispers a name he doesn't recognise, a name that calls out to his deepest longing. Her voice is familiar, warm, and cautious, even breathless, a siren's song in the darkness of his soul, trying to lure his sentience out from where he locked, and barred it.

 

He won't let it escape... he won't.

 

Their eyes meet, and, for mere seconds, they are the only ones in the world. Hazel eyes stare at him with hope, letting him see too much of a soul he somehow feels kindred to in a way he never has before. Frozen to the spot, he tries to get back in control, hand still hovering over the pyramid. He doesn't let it show, but his head is spinning with the tornado of thoughts, and images swirling in his synapses.

 

"Who are you?"

 

A slight shiver shoots up his spine, before he finds his voice at last, tone sharp, and angry.

 

"Go!"

 

It leaves no space for arguing, yet she doesn't move a muscle, seemingly unaffected by his almost savage behaviour. If it would have been someone else, they would have cowered in fear, scrambling as far away from him as possible. But... this woman isn't one of those disgustingly servile cultists, no, she is something else entirely. A hint of admiration makes itself knows, his traitorous heart fluttering in a way he's not used to, at all. When she finally heeds his words, she does it with hesitation, as if she doesn't want to leave the sanctuary without him, gaze lingering as she slowly walks away.

 

And so, the spell has been broken, a surge of renewed visceral rage takes over his entire being, drowning him in its bloody abyss. Each and every fiber in his body itches to wreak havoc, to wallow in chaos while his sword sinks into warm flesh, breaking bones, and spilling crimson blood. The beast in him purrs at the thought, soon followed by a sneer at the rational part that keeps leashing it most often than not. 

 

Something in him snaps when it turns out that the next cultist is indeed the traitor. It was all it took for the beast to shatter the shackles. The sound of the man's skull cracking against the artifact is beyond satisfying, it sends shivers up and down his spine, a thrill he will never renounce.

 

"The traitor is dead!"

 

By the time his blinding wrath subsides, a barely identifiable corpse lays at his feet, blood trickling on the lustrous floor from a mangled face. His chest hurts from how erratic his breath has become, a pang of something he can't discern making his guts churn, and a lump form in his throat.

 

He can't breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have in mind to continue this, and keep the same tags, but it depends on the reaction I'll get.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> You can find me on: Tumblr - kenrakenokwaho.tumblr.com (I use it, but not on a regular basis)  
> 


	2. Τρέξιμο/Tréximo/Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to write a chapter 2, It's not the best continuation, but I haven't really come up with a solid plot, so I'm just following the game's storyline. Perhaps, I will rewrite this chapter at some point, I don't know yet.
> 
> Also, Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it today!
> 
> Enjoy!

Neither of them knows how they got into this situation. All he knows is that her plump lips feel amazing against his, soft and pliant, making his entire body tingle with their warmth. The woman, his sister, has been quite difficult to track, despite what he told her only moments ago. Sure, she's been killing mercenary after mercenary, politician after politician, even members of the Cult, yet she managed to elude him for a surprisingly long while. Now that he finally has her writhing under him, the thrill overpowering his sense is something he wasn't prepared for, not in a million years. Tan skin and lean muscles press against him in all the right places, deft fingers tangling in his hair as they deepen the kiss.

 

They are so fucking twisted... perhaps they've always been...

 

From that day in the Sanctuary, a constant storm raged in his mind, a permanent contradiction between what has been ingrained with sweat and blood into his very core, and what the artifact showed him. At first, denial overwhelmed him altogether. It just couldn't be true... he's always been alone, the Cult the only thing close enough to what he could call family. In hindsight, this perspective probably blinded him for far too long before he finally realised that he should be careful when it comes to how much trust he offers them. Then, wave after wave of fury set every fiber in his body on fire. How dare she waltz into his life, and change everything he ever knew. How dare she bring such loathsome memories, such... _pain_... How dare she make him _weak_... That day, he slaughtered entire garrisons, Spartans, Athenians, bandits, outlaws, even innocents who had been unlucky to cross his path. After the fire of his wrath extinguished, what was left behind were the ashes of acceptance...

 

Lust soon followed, intensifying with each passing day until it got completely out of control. Hazel eyes haunted him in light and in dark with their loving depths. Her voice echoed in his head at night, whispering that cursed name over and over again until the breathless word turned into something else entirely, stirring the fire of desire that simmered inside him from the instant their gazes met. Still, he pushed that reality away, choosing to ignore its existence, and focus instead on his mission. It worked... relatively. The whispers never stopped, he barely slept, the prospect of their inevitable encounter plaguing his mind. In the end, the sight of gore, the sounds of battle, and the smell of burning flesh only muted these musings... her presence lurking in his head, alive, strong, always _there_.

 

A sharp bite snaps him out of his reverie, the bitter tang of blood filling his mouth as their tongues swirl and slide against each other in a battle for dominance, tasting, exploring. It's hot, and so, so wet. When his hands find her hips, she suddenly breaks the kiss with a gasp. They don't speak, both trying to catch their breath whilst their chests heave from the effort. She doesn't look at him, stare fixed somewhere over his shoulder. She doesn't move either. She tried so hard to make him see reason, to convince him that she is his family... He fought her at every turn, only to give in to his longing the moment he had her pinned to the ground after they rolled into the dirt.

 

When she finally meets his gaze, her eyes hold both sadness, and hope, one hand lifting to gently cup his cheek as she murmurs "Come with me, Alexios..."

 

The spell is broken then, everything that is wrong with what they're doing comes crashing down on him. With an almost inhuman speed, he jumps to his feet, and puts between them as much distance as possible. Yet another unfamiliar emotion creeps through his heart.

 

_Fear._

 

He can't simply throw away all the years he spent on chiseling his skills, on eradicating any sentience that threatened to break through. He can't betray the Cult. He is their champion... That title meant... it still means so much to him... yet now, while he urges his hand to reach for the blade and cut down his own sister, he hesitates. For the first time in his life... he hesitates. Then, his legs move on their own accord, and he's running without looking back. Where? He doesn't know. Maybe he is a coward for doing this, but he needs time to come to terms with who he actually is, and what he wants...

 


	3. Απαγορεύοντας τη Mοίρα/Apagorévontas ti Moíra/Denying Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been received surprisingly well. I didn't expect to get so many kudos, considering it is incest :))
> 
> The third chapter is longer than the other two, and I'm so happy that I finally managed to get it together, and come up with a plot. I hope it is a good one, and that it will keep your interest, despite still following some of the elements form the game. I don't know where to take it exactly, if I should change it completely at some point or not. I will figure it out... eventually.
> 
> Enjoy!

Each day is an agonizing trial after that. The taste of her lips lingers on his tongue, he sees her silhouette every time he closes his eyes, morning, noon, and night. He fights to keep away the feeling of her body moving against his, how perfectly they fit, like two pieces of a puzzle. He tries to use the same distractions. It's pointless. Nothing works anymore. Killing is no longer satisfying, blood only serves to make him more frustrated. The beast inside growls with a new kind of ferocity, a new kind of desire, animalistic in the way that everything he experiences on an emotional level truly is. Yet, through all the lustful haze, a hint of gentleness weasels its way into his heart, and that he hates the most... he hates that he somehow, at some point, began to care.

 

It becomes unbearable quickly. By the time he decides to use the artifact, he's in a deplorable state, skin alarmingly pale, the dark circles under his eyes adorning his now gaunt face. If the cultists notice the change, they say nothing. He's glad for that, he might be miserable and in no mood to fight, but he can still run them through in the blink of an eye. It's midnight when he descends to the Sanctuary, not a soul in the cavernous chamber aside from the stoic guards who straighten their stances to an impossibly perpendicular degree. With each step he takes towards the artifact, flashes of the few moments they shared plague his mind even more viciously than before, as if they know that they will soon be erased. It's strange, he has no certainty that it will work... he doesn't even know how to use it in order to forget her, and the past they never had.

 

When he comes to a stop before the Pyramid, hesitation threatens to overwhelm him yet again whilst fingers hover inches apart from the glowing surface. One piece is missing. He saw her take it that day, but he didn't do anything about it. This last thought helps him make the final decision. Taking a deep breath, he presses his palm to the artifact, a surge of power sending his senses haywire as his vision goes white. A feeling of peace and warmth envelops him after the initial shock begins to fade. It almost seems like he's floating, somewhere quiet and tranquil, away from pain and sorrow... away from the Cult... away from _her_. He isn't prepared for the suave voice that suddenly echoes around him.

 

"I have not felt such anguish in centuries, child. It is a wonder you survived this long."

 

Instinctively, his muscles tense, and he tries to rise from the horizontal position he has only just realised he is in. No such, luck. Out of nowhere, an invisible force crashes down on him, pinning his body mid-air while the void he's floating in gradually turns darker, and darker. As everything becomes pitch black, he wonders if this is what going to the Underworld means, eternal solitude and desolation. It doesn't last long, however, gilded beams of light materialising out of thin air, swirling and twining in pandemonium. Slowly, a voluptuous figure begins to take form, roses laced through waves of golden locks that cascade down bare shoulders, alabaster skin almost blinding him for a second.

 

"Who are you?" he asks, despite having a vague idea of who the woman really is.

 

"You come to me to quench your torment, yet you do not know who I am? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I was expecting more appreciation from you, mortals. I work very hard to bring love into your lives."

 

The last phrase makes his blood boil under his skin, teeth grinding so hard that it is painful. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he inhales, and exhales, in and out until his anger is once again under control. He remains silent.

 

"Yet love is not what you seek, little one. Not at all. You are rather running from it just like every being in this universe runs from Thanatos. Tell me, why is that? Why do you deny what the Moirai have bestowed upon you?"

 

This time, his voice doesn't betray him, and it doesn't waver "I do not want this wretched feeling. I want no memories, no love, no _weakness_. I want to forget, to be _free_."

 

Her laugh is melodious, but it holds a nuance of sadness underneath "Many would kill for the gift you have been given."

 

"I don't care. Do what you must to rid me of this burden."

 

She seems taken aback by his bluntness. No supplication, no sugar-coated pleas or reverence. Only a simple, straightforward, almost insulting in its honesty, request. A smile graces rosy lips then. This mortal is something else.

 

"I shall grant your wish, human, but, you must know, there is no turning back. You will become an empty shell, rage your sole companion, a restless beast."

 

He can feel his breath stutter. To hell with these damn emotions. He wants them gone!

 

"Do it."

 

"Very well."

 

White veils him once more, then he falls into a blissful darkness.

 

◇◇◇

 

He ends the girl's life without thinking twice, watching her wide eyes lose focus as her body goes limp. Behind, his soldiers dare to whisper, but he ignores them, just this once. A cynical command is all he gives before he turns to leave.

 

"Get rid of the body."

 

◇◇◇

 

In the comforting silence of the temple, he hears that despicable voice of hers before he sees her. In his arms, Perikles still struggles weakly, trying in vain to get away from imminent death. The beast inside him purrs, sadistic, _feral_ as it revels in the blood that flows freely from lacerated veins, life slowly seeping away. When she finally appears, their eyes meet in a silent battle. At the sight of her, Perikles makes one last attempt to speak, bringing a cruel smirk to Deimos' lips as he lifts the sword to leisurely slit the general's throat.

 

The smirk on his face grows as he watches her reaction. It's delightful. Then, he turns his attention back to the blood trickling down his blade. Such a beautiful crimson colour.

 

"Stay out of my way."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanatos is the personification of Death in Greek mythology, as you might already know, and the Moirai are the personifications of Fate.
> 
> Bonus points for the readers who figure out who is the woman connected to the artifact.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Aντανακλάσεις και  Αλήθειες/Antanakláseis kai Alítheies/Reflections and Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! So, the fourth chapter is up and about! I thought it would be a great idea to try my hand at writing Kassandra, so I did a little summary of this whole thing from her perspective. 
> 
> Comments are, as always, very welcome. Enjoy!

The day they met, Kassandra didn't expect the Cult's champion, the brute that came barging into the Sanctuary with Elpenor's head dangling from this fingers, to be her own brother... the very brother she thought dead. Surprisingly, it turned out to be the fact that startled her the least. Instead, what made her heart race in her ribcage, and her mind reel had been the sudden warmth that rushed through her entire body before settling into her lower belly as their eyes connected. Her senses were on fire. It had been both a familiar, and completely foreign feeling. It was lust, but, at the same time, so much more. Of course, at the time, she pushed the reality of it so far to the back of her mind that she actually thought she'd be able to forget.

 

No such luck. The memory of their encounter, and the echo of his raspy baritone plagued not only her dreams, but her each, and every thought regardless of activity. It didn't matter if she was getting drunk, if she was in the middle of slitting throats or if she was lost in the throes of pleasure. Men, women, it was of little importance who she fucked, it did nothing to quench the burning desire. His eyes, his voice, they were everywhere, peering right into her soul at every turn.

 

It only got worse. Their second encounter did nothing but fuel the fire burning inside her. In a pointless attempt to hold on to the last bit of rationality, she tried time, and time again to make him see that the Cult is using him, that he is their pawn in a much bigger scheme. She tried to convince him to stand by her side, to help her find their mother. In vain, he was already too far lost to accept the truth, and that made her fury rise to the point she tried to punch him. As it turned out, he is much, much stronger than her, and they ended up wrestling on the gravelly ground.

 

What she didn't expect in a million years, was to feel full lips melting against her own akin to missing pieces. His stubble made her skin tingle as their kiss became more fervent, mouths opening to let their tongues dance, tasting, exploring each other in a hot, and wet battle. She can still feel his fingers dig into her hips, pleasantly bruising, leaving behind marks that have yet to heal. Her mind whispered then, as it does now, that it is  _wrong_ , that she shouldn't have taken part in such a sinful act... that she shouldn't feel this way... But she does, damn it... her blood is still boiling with want under her skin, her heart beats faster at the mere prospect of seeing him again... her lower lips twitch at the simple thought of having him inside her. It would be pointless by now to even attempt to count how many nights she woke up drenched in sweat, each, and every fiber in her body itching to be touched, despite the abundant juices coating her fingers as they brought her to completion.

 

There is no doubt that he felt the same way, yet he decided deny it, to run away like a coward... It would have been foolish of her to believe that he'd accept their predicament just because her own treacherous heart told her she could, and would accept it. By Hades, she would have given it her all, no matter where this... whatever this thing between them is, would have taken them. Perplexed, and out of breath, she watched him disappear into the sunset light. She knew that it wasn't the last time they would meet, but she didn't know how much pain would befall her when they will see each other next... She didn't know that she will be facing a monster.

 

_"Stay out of my way."_

 

His words resound in her head over, and over again, a mantra she desperately wants to forget. Dark, emotionless orbs flash before her mind's eye... a bloodthirsty madness meant to bring chaos, and destruction upon all. And it did... it ruined her...

 

Now, standing by Phoibe's grave in Kephallonia, she curses him, she curses the Moirai for bestowing this despicable destiny upon them, she curses the gods for playing their wretched games... She finally lets out the scream of agony that kept clawing at her insides since the moment he found her little body soaked in blood... They brought her home on the Adrestia... She remembers how sad the girl had been that she couldn't sail with them... Phoibe... her sweet Phoibe... she didn't deserve this fate, she didn't deserve to be butchered like cattle, she shouldn't be here alone, six feet underground... It's still so clear... the day she left the island... Perhaps she should have taken Phoibe with her, perhaps this is all her fault... How beautiful that mischievous smile was... It would have shined so bright aboard the Adrestia... Kassandra will never see it again...

 

She screams again as she falls to her knees, tears flowing freely down her sunburnt cheeks. The pain... it's too much... her hands clench into fists on the freshly plowed soil... She cries until she can't anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Moirai are personifications of fate, and you all know Hades, my old friend from the Underworld :)) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Φαντάσματα/Fantásmata/Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of short, and doesn't bring much novelty, but I wanted to give you a little more insight regarding both Alexios' and Kassandra's extremely different... well everything at this point. Enjoy my little pain filled world!

"Oh! Harder!"

 

Her moans spur him on, hips snapping forward as he slams into her over, and over until she loses all coherency, mewls and shout of pleasure filling the room. He's close, heat pooling in his loins with every erratic thrust while his fingers dig into flesh, bruising olive skin. He doesn't dare to look at her, afraid of what he might see. Instead, he closes his eyes tightly, burying his face into the chestnut locks spread gracefully over silk sheets. The aroma of citrus invades his senses, sharp, yet comforting... familiar. It's all it takes for his entire body to tense, muscles spasming with wave after wave of blinding pleasure, a breathless voice whispering in his head a name he doesn't recognise.

 

_"Alexios."_

 

With a last, deep groan, he stills, forehead pressed to a clammy shoulder as he breathes slowly to calm his racing heart. The spell is broken when he feels tender fingers card through his hair. He pulls away instantly, but remains in the same spot, still inside her. A hand lifts to gently cup a flushed cheek before sliding down to a delicate neck, thumb pressing lightly into the dip of her collarbone "Agápi mou..."

 

A feral growl leaves his lips then, his hand suddenly closing around her neck, tightening by the second. When he speaks, his voice is the complete opposite of his previous reaction, holding a hint of eerie calmness "Didn't I tell you not to touch me?"

 

She doesn't answer, she can't, windpipe being gradually crushed whilst she flails helplessly under him "P-pl...' He watches with sinister satisfaction as she struggles to get away, hazel eyes widening to the point they're almost bulging out. He watches as her skin becomes a pale canvas painted by the intricate patterns of her veins, body lying limp under him, an ephemeral creature in an ethereal state.

 

He smiles.

 

◇◇◇

 

After Phoibe's burial, she doesn't have the strength to leave Kephallonia. She tells Barnabas as much before she heads back to the hovel she once called home... The emptiness makes her heart clench, chest heavy with an agony that shattered each, and every wall she built up to survive in this shit hole she's been from the moment she sent her brother over that wretched cliff. She hears Ikaros' familiar shrill as he perches on the nearby well. A soothing call. Her breath hitches, but she doesn't cry... She cannot cry... there are no more tears left for that... A hollow laugh surprises even her when it bursts out of her lungs without any warning. Head thrown back, she laughs, and she laugh. She laughs at the Gods for the games that they're playing. She laughs at the Moirai, at the fate they cursed her with. She laughs at herself... at how weak she has become, at how human she is...

 

Above her, the sky is clear when she opens her eyes, stars twinkling either in constellations or in chaotic clusters. And, as she stares up at the mesmerising sight, her laugh dies on her lips, and drops of saline liquid trickle down her cheeks, a lonely star drawing her attention. Among the glimmering, celestial map, it shines the brightest. She inhales deeply, shoulders slumping with exhaustion, hands unclenching from the tightly balled fists she isn't even aware to have made. She hears Ikaros shriek again as he flies past her, and lands on the stump of the broken column where Phoibe always liked to stay when she came to visit. He shrieks again, ruffling his feathers whilst he scrapes his talons over the stone.

 

Numb legs move on their own accord towards her faithful companion. Hazel eyes widen. Carved into the column are two eagles facing each other, wings spread as they soar over the words etched underneath.

 

**_Until we meet again._ **

 

Fresh tears fall onto cold stone.

 

She smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agápi mou means my love. A touch of irony when you think about Deimos' total opposite course of action. It makes things more dramatic I guess.
> 
> On another note, I'm curious to see how you interpret the first half of this chapter, so comments are welcome, as always!


	6. Μεράκι/Meraki/From the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm sorry for my absence, it's been a long few weeks for me. Many projects then my puppy died right before my finals started... it's been... difficult to write properly. I hope the chapter is okay, I think I did well with it.
> 
> Thank you for reading this story, and for keeping me motivated! I hope to get back to my usual updating schedule soon.

They see each other again, this time on the battlefield. The smell of blood, and burning wood invades her lungs while she runs her spear through a soldier's head. On the other side of the fire wall, Brasidas is cutting down enemy after enemy with an almost inhuman swiftness, nearly impossible to see his blade slash through bone, and flesh before another body falls to the ground. A shadow catches her eye, running through the flames from the other side of the field, an obvious target in mind. Without putting much thought into it, she sprints in an instant in Brasidas' direction, right through the blaze, reaching him just in time to parry the strike meant to behead him.

 

Eyes void of emotion, void of recognition, glare into her determined ones as she speaks through gritted teeth, seething "This fight is between you, and me." From the corner of her eye, she sees Brasidas retreat to watch their duel from afar while defending himself from the occasional Athenian trying to challenge him.

 

Her voice does not waver, but doubt clouds her mind nonetheless. Despite the confidence she always has in her strength, and skill, none of her previous opponents possessed her brother's prowess... nor were they fueled by the same self-destructive wrath. She can only hope that the very same fury will be to her advantage in this fight.

 

"I don't know who you are, but you will die here."

 

With this, her assumption has been confirmed. Somehow, someone completely erased her from his knowledge, leaving behind only a bloodthirsty beast who has no more reasons to hesitate in killing her. She pushes forward with all her strength, sending him stumbling a few steps back. He doesn't falter, already regaining his balance to attack with lightning speed. She sidesteps, the blade missing her torso by an inch, but she isn't prepared for the fist that suddenly connects with her cheek. The bitter taste of blood fills her mouth before she spits it out, launching her own assault at an unrelenting pace. Each attempt is met with infrangible defense as he deflects each, and every onslaught. One, in particular, sends her flying to the ground, his massive form already above her to deal the final blow.

 

Adrenaline courses through her veins, summoning up the energy she need to roll out of the way at the last moment, then land a hard punch to his temple. The sheer force of it makes him lose his footing as he falls to one knee, dizzy, and surprised. He tries to recover, but he's too slow, another fist snapping his head to the side, then another, and another, until he finally manages to catch one of her wrists, his other hand wrapping instantly around her neck, a glint of insanity so very clear in his eyes.

 

Who is this man? Was she so blind to believe he can be saved? Was she so naive to even think that their family will be reunited once again? Was she wrong to be so sure he isn't a monster in human skin? For the first time since they met, she questions his salvation... she questions her very judgement. How can she spare him? How can she let him live after he killed so many, after he chose the Cult over his own family? Still...

 

"Are y-you mad!?" she struggles to breathe "W-we" she gasps as his hand tightens "We c-can still s-st-"

 

His fingers dig harder into her neck, slowly crushing her windpipe. Still... the shred of hope left in her heart hasn't died yet, her decision made from the moment they met, long before he gave in to his inner beast, long before these _feelings_ she can't understand took over everything that she _is_ , everything that _she_ represents "Alexios... P-please..." Black dances across her vision as she struggles to hold onto her consciousness, but in vain, it's slipping away along with her life, eyes closing before she goes limp.

 

◇◇◇

 

She wakes up with a gasp, springing into a sitting position, muscles taut, eyes wild with acute awareness as she frantically searches the room for any dangers. A soft, loving voice breaks her out of the chaotic state she's in, gentle finger resting on her trembling hand.

 

"You're safe, Kassandra."

 

 _"Mater."_ her mind provides.

 

Shutting her eyes, she slowly inhales, holding her breath for a moment before releasing it from her lungs. She does it a few more times until she feels her body gradually relax, and her heart temper its hectic rhythm. When heavy eyelids open, she looks to her right, and, as expected, her mother kneels there beside her, an equally worried, and relieved expression on her face. She pulls her into a hug without hesitation.

 

_"Thank the gods. She's alive."_

 

After she pulls away, she finally has the chance to observe her surroundings. They're in a tent, most likely in a Spartan camp, judging by the red cloth, and the few shields lying in the far corner, bearing the Spartan insignia. She suddenly flinches, recalling the events that took place before she lost consciousness. Her mind is a war zone of contradictory feelings. She resents Nikolaos for allowing the Cult to manipulate him. She blames Myrrine for being too complacent with the way things were, for letting her guard down, for _failing_ to protect them. She despises the Cult for existing. She curses the gods for playing these wretched games with her... with her family. She hates Alexios for making her feel this way. But, most of all, she hates her very self for falling prey to her humanity, for being depraved enough to harbour a different kind of love for her own brother... she hates herself for _living_... This, however, does not stop her from asking.

 

"Where is he?"

 

There is no need to tell her mother who she's talking about, Myrrine already knows, a sad smile dimming her beautiful features "He's with Brasidas. His wounds are... severe... I fear he won't last the night..."

 

"I have to see him, mater."

 

Kassandra doesn't miss the hesitation in her mother's eyes, she doesn't miss the almost refusal that dies on Myrrine's lips when she sees her daughter's woe.

 

"Please..."

 

Hazel orbs must speak volumes, even more so than her words, for it doesn't take long for Myrrine to help her stand up on wobbly legs, leading her out of the tent. The soldiers' buzzing activities cease altogether when they step outside the tent, all eyes focused on the two women traipsing towards their leader's quarters. Despite the tension, one soldier dares to break the silence as he continues to strike at the training post. From there, everyone goes back to their previous workings, paying no heed to them anymore.

 

Once inside Brasidas' tent, she lets out a breath she wasn't aware she's been holding, taking the form of a heavy sigh. A fond smile brightens the officer's face, and the corner's of her lips tilt up to greet him in kind, mouth opening to voice her joy to see him alive, and well. But, before she can do any of that, her eyes fall on the trembling figure lying on the makeshift bed behind Brasidas, and it feels like her world is falling apart... again. It must have shown quite clearly on her face because Brasidas moves aside without a word as she disentangles herself from Myrrine's hold. On shaky legs, she makes her way towards her brother, ignoring the pain surging through her every fiber of her body whilst she sits beside him on the ground, not caring about the dirt or the small pebbles digging into her skin. Behind her, she hears slight shuffles followed by the rustle of the tent's flaps. Then, silence. Deafening silence.

 

"N-no... Ngh... S-sto-op.."

 

He's dreaming. Of what, she doesn't know, but the being unable to alleviate his pain makes her heart clench even more. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, remnants of blood still visible here, and there across his half-covered body, brown hair spread under his head like a tangled halo. Her hand moves on its own accord, gentle fingers brushing away the few strands plastered to his skin. It's all it takes for him to quiet down, irregular breathing becoming steadier. His shuddering stop soon after as she continues to caress his face, palm resting on his cheek in a loving gesture. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.

 

"You can't die, you hear me?"

 

Unshed tears make her eyes sting as she leans forward, pressing her forehead to his "You can't..." her voice breaks, a drop of liquid anguish falling on his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meraki = actions that come from the heart.
> 
> For those who might wonder why I went for a wounded Alexios, well, it seemed like a logical option, also great for the plot. I mean the man had a tree fall on him, that must have left some marks. The game didn't give us enough insight, but it couldn't have, it's not a movie nor is it a book, so I took it upon myself to do that while adapting the events to my story.


	7. Παγιδευμένος/Pagidevménos/Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo!!! Yes, I'm alive, and fairly well. This chapter is short, I'm sorry, but I think it's quite entertaining, and it builds up the suspense for the next chapter. I wanted to make it longer, and at the same time I thought it would be better if I made it short because I intend to make chapter 8 much, much longer. It is currently in progress, and, if all goes well, I intend to publish it this week. 
> 
> Until then, enjoy!

_Trapped. He feels trapped. He **is** trapped. When he opens his eyes, all he sees is darkness, a pitch-black abyss, desolate, and deafeningly silent. He can hear every erratic beat of his heart resounding in his head, blood pounding in his ears as he tries to stand on shaky legs. A light sheen of sweat veils his skin, cold, and humid whilst tremors vibrate through his body, nausea making his stomach clench into knots. He opens his mouth, but the groan of pain is stuck in his throat. He tries to speak. His lips move, but no sound comes out. Instinctively, his hand goes up around his neck, feeling, checking, **tightening** in hopes that it might help his voice return._

 

_It doesn't._

 

_He is startled when a roar of piercing noises assaults his too sensitive ears, vision going white for a few seconds. When he turns, something suddenly digs its sharp claws into his very heart... something he hadn't felt since he was a mere boy training under Kleon, something he hasn't felt in a long, long while..._

 

_Fear._

 

_A never-ending nightmare unfolds behind closed eyelids. Faces he doesn't recognise blur into a sea of agonised expressions marred by wounds and blood, screams he's all too familiar with echo in his head, haunting, screeching, **begging** him to spare them. And, in the midst of all the chaos, a pair of brown eyes stare at him with unbearable innocence, the same eyes he closed without a second thought. Now, they're asking **why** he shut them for eternity, **why** he took the life of a pure soul, **why** he cast away every drop of his humanity. Shame settles in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't even remember... Surprising as it is, he never killed a child, he **swore** he will never resort to such a despicable act, despite the Cult's constant insistence to never show mercy to anyone. Yet... yet he inevitably ended up executing the very deed vowed not to do. He mercilessly **slaughtered** a little girl, his mind a blank slate, free of rationality, free of remorse... at least at the time. What he does remember, is an overwhelming wave of rage that stayed with him long after he cut Perikles' throat, a rage he is both familiar, and entirely unfamiliar with, a rage that has more than one source._

 

_As they continue to stare at him accusingly, her eyes grow bigger, rounder, wider, two luminescent orbs without pupils taking their place, peering into his very essence while the faces around them morph into one horrible mass of limbs, and heads, charred arms suddenly springing out to grab him._

 

_He runs._

 

_He runs, and doesn't look back. He finds himself doing this far too frequently lately **"Coward"** It's pointless, he knows as much, the stillness around him mutes the sound of his every movement, it swallows him whole with each step he takes, deeper, and deeper into this endless void. Behind him, the hideous creature skulks into the shadows, only the bright spheres on its gnarled form glowing in the dark, no distinguishable head, only a pile of melted flesh standing on outstretched arms. Is that what his victims felt... he wonders. So helpless, so forlorn, so... hopeless? Hunted down by a monstrosity disguised in human form._

 

_It wails._

 

_He runs faster._

 

◇◇◇

 

"Brasidas!!! Brasidas!"

 

The officer is by Kassandra's side in a flash, soon followed by two soldiers, and Myrrine who manages to pull her daughter back, fingers already palpating the bruise under her left eye. The men struggle to keep Alexios still, blood seeping through the bandages around his torso as he thrashes uncontrollably in their grip.

 

◇◇◇

 

_With each passing moment, it gets harder and harder to breathe, lungs burning from the prolonged effort. His muscles are straining to keep him on the move, head spinnning, fear increasing the slower his pace becomes. He doesn't dare to look behind, afraid of what he will see if he does. The acrid stench of scorched flesh is stronger now, closer, the hairs at the nape of his neck standing on end from the fetid waft tickling his skin._

 

_Then... he's drowning. Engulfed by a sea of crimson red that sticks to his skin like tar, hot, suffocating. It feels like he's melting. Blind, deaf, and dumb, he writhes in vain, the beast's shrieks still ringing in his mind. When he feels tendrils creeping up his body, he tries to ward them off, twisting in vain to get away from them._

 

_Too late._

 

_They grip his arms, his legs, his head. They crawl up until they reach his face, covering his eyes, his nose, his mouth, drawing him deeper into ensanguined depths._

 

◇◇◇

 

She watches helplessly as Alexios twists, and turns, howling louder, and louder the more they try to keep him under control. Spit trickles down his chin, the vein in his neck on the verge of bursting whilst his eyes are open, yet unfocused. It hurts to seem him suffer like this. It hurts beyond comprehension. It hurts to the point she can no longer stand, falling on her hands, and knees beside her mother, heaving whatever is left in her stomach on the gravelly ground.

 

Myrrine's hand seems heavy on her back even though its circling motion is meant to calm her. By the time the spasms finally stop, she feels completely empty, emaciated, dizzy, the acid taste of bile lingering on her tongue. She realises that she's trembling the moment she tries to push herself up, arms giving out under her weight. The only thing keeping her from hitting the ground are her mother's arms wrapping around her protectively.

 

It's warm, and welcoming, black clouds already spreading across her vision until the last image she sees before she loses consciousness is Alexios' inert form.


	8. Πάνω από τον ποταμό Στύξ /Páno apó ton potamó Styx/Over the River Styx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised I haven't reached my, and I quote "much, much longer" target for this chapter, but at least it is longer than the others. I just came to the conclusion that there would have been too many elements if I added too many interactions.
> 
> So, although it might not satisfy your needs yet, I sure made it interesting. Next chapter, be prepared for fiery interactions!
> 
> Enjoy!

_The soothing lullaby of flowing water tickles her ears as heavy eyelids slowly blink open. A soft tune mingles with the sound of ripples meeting wood, disturbing the Stygian quietude that embraces her, intimate, and comforting while her senses remain dormant. Staring up at the sky, a dismal palette of dull, unchanging nuances of grey greets light-grey orbs. It's... peaceful, so peaceful in its lifeless eeriness, taking away the pain eating at her insides._ _Little by little, the tune grows clearer, words accompanying its melodious notes in woeful harmony.  
_

 

 _"When I am laid, am laid in earth, May my wrongs create_  
_No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;_  
_Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate._  
_Remember me, but ah! forget my fate."_

_With great effort, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, head spinning despite the deliberately slow movement. All sensations she felt until now come together to form the revelation she is currently having. She's on a boat, the ripples of the nearly black river rocking it gently to and fro akin to a silent cradle song. Her slightly blurry vision clears after a short while, and that's when she notices the hooded figure standing near her, rowing the boat with its back turned._

 

_"Ah, you have awoken, at last."_

 

 _Startled by the newly revealed boatman's sudden remark, she swallows the lump in her throat_ _"Who are you? W-where am I?" she hates how her voice stutters without reason.  
_

 

_When he speaks, the ferryman's voice resembles that of a weary old man, raspy, pensive, and slightly quivering as he lifts the pole to propel the boat before he speaks again "I did not think mortals like you exist anymore, child. Such pain, a tainted past, a warring present. You have spilles so much blood, yet your heart remains astonishingly pure."_

 

_This time, Kassandra doesn't waver, her patience already wearing thin "I asked you a question old man, you'd do well to answer it."_

 

_He doesn't... not rightaway at least._

 

_Frustration must be written all over her face by the time he does grace her with a response, a mellow laugh following the short silence that fell upon them "Oh, little one, I am but a mere messenger of the gods."_

 

_**"Kharon"** her mind provides in epiphanic stupor._

 

_"You have made quite an impression on them. No mortal succeeded in escaping fate, yet you continue to deny it at every turn. It has taken you far away from where you were meant to be, but you have taken it too far. The Moirai are not pleased. They have given you a gift, and you are refusing it. A sacrilege. It does not favour you that your brother is doing the same nor does it favour you that he asked Lady Aphrodite to meddle in the Moirai's affairs. Be wise with your choices, else they turn their wrath upon you even in the Underworld."_

 

_"I care not for such things. I make my own destiny."  
_

 

_"Yes, young one, but what of your soul? Do you not think you have had enough suffering? Do you not think yourself worthy of respite, of accepting that which you are missing, that which you are offered?"_

 

_As soon as it lit up, the misthios' belligerent fire dies down, a deafening silence falling between them yet again as she stares at her hands, clenched into fists in her lap. It hurts to think about the past... it hurts even more to think about the present... How can she know what is wrong, and what is right... How can she know what to do?  
_

 

_"Look around you, child, the dead are singing out to you. Would you choose death, knowing that **you** were the one to make that choice, or would you risk an endeavor at life, knowing that your moral code might come second in your heart?"_

 

_If someone asked her this question a few days ago, she would have been certain of her answer. Now... eyes identical to hers flash in her mind, and it all seems so relative, so unpredictable... She rests her forehead in her hands, but it's as if she's touching nothing... Without another thought, fingers press down of her wrist. There's nothing. No sign of blood pulsing through her veins, no sound of heartbeats drumming in her ears. Only now does he apprehend how icy her skin looks, its colour as grey as the sky above them. Soft murmurs draw her attention then, and she lifts her gaze to look in the direction of the sound. She is petrified when light-grey orbs meet countless other pairs, familiar faces standing out in the endless crowd. She never did manage to forget the faces of her victims... but she learned to live with them. Life has never been kind to her.  
_

 

_"Tsk, tsk, no matter." she hears from the side, eyes snapping back to the oarsman now facing her, long grizzled beard grazing the wooden floor of the boat. A serene smile lifts the wrinkled corners of his lips as he looks at Kassandra with irises the colour of blazing fire, red and gold dancing around pitch-black pupils._

 

_"You will decide soon."_

 

_As if on cue, splashing sounds draw her attention back to what she is now certain is the River Styx, eyes widening when an arm shoots out from the roaring waters. She can't tell how, but she knows who it belongs to. There is no hesitation as she reaches out, glacial skin meeting feverish flesh. For an instant, it feels like the torrent is luring her in as well, but she grits her teeth._

 

_She won't let it._

 

_Feet firmly planted on the side of the boat, she musters each, and every bit of strength she can, then pulls._

 

◇◇◇

 

Mirroring gasps interrupt the heated conversation betweem Myrrine, and Brasidas. Two identical pairs of equally disturbed eyes meet, foreign emotions swirling in both of them as they dwell in a dream state, lost to the world while their hearts race in their chests a mile a minute. For the first time since they met, they truly look beyond the surface, they look beyond the bits, and pieces they've let slip so far. By the time they break eye contact, it's already too late, they've peered too much into each other's soul for things to go back to the way they were before.

 

Alexios' eyes are wide with realisation, all that he's done, and felt seemingly coming down on him like a talanton of rocks. He must look like a scared child. It comes as no surprise that he is the first to look away, a deep frown marring his face. It's wrong... so wrong to feel like this... so powerless, so _weak_. What's worse is that this strange dream did nothing but make him admit that there _is_ something between him, and Kassandra... that there  _was_ something long before they came across one another, and only grew stronger with every interaction. The sensation of water filling his lungs is still so fresh in his mind, a tornado of emotions holding him under... despair, longing, regret... No one knows what went through his head whilst he fought against the current, struggling to get out of the shadows' grasp. No one knows that the shout of help sealed behind his lips wasn't for his mother or father. No one knows that the name echoing over, and over in his head like a mantra had been Kassandra. A name both foreign, and familiar, a name so very clear in his head... almost like he has known it all his life. No one knows the nearly audible pieces of the puzzle clicking together as he remembered everything.

 

No one knows but he, and the gods.

 

He hears an almost inaudible whisper "Alexios..." but he doesn't look. He sees his mother's relieved, but worried stare. Beside her, a man stands tall, and proud. It is hate at first sight, anger making his blood boil. But before he decides to act rashly, a wave of exhaustion, and nausea surges through his body, and he takes in a deep breath, feeling blessed to discover his lungs fill with air, before he closes his eyes, a frown plastered on his face. The last thought swimming aimlessly in his mind is what will become of him...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kharon is the ferryman who "escorts" (ha, ha) the dead over the river Styx. Also, I took the lyrics from Dido's Lament, the aria "When I am laid in earth" from the opera Dido and Aeneas by Henry Purcell. It felt like a nice, and eerie touch to add a song into that dull dimension.


	9. Εξαγορά/Exagorá/Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More dreams and a long awaited, but short interaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, hello there! I know it's been so, sooo long and I feel really bad for leaving this fic unfinished as well. Ideas come easily, but putting them into words is, most of the time, pretty difficult, especially when university and... well... life get in the way :)) I'm not going to make excuses 'cause laziness is also part of why writing is so hard for me, but I will do my best to continue this and update regularly.
> 
> I hope this chapter is to your liking, although I wish I did a better job at writing it. Enjoy and leave your feedback in the comments!
> 
> P.S. I do know that some people don't find the idea of incest acceptable at all, regardless of the fact that it's just fiction. To be clear, I don't condone it either, but writing is about creativity, about taking some liberties that otherwise no one would. The concept is far from moral, but I saw what I saw when the two siblings interacted. Blood is blood, but even with that knowledge, there is always a chance that the mind and heart might work differently, that perceptions could be entirely opposite to reality. Anyway, what I really need to say is: If you don't like it, don't read and leave negative comments just for the sake of it.

" _Alexios..."_

 

_Who?_

 

_"Alexios..."_

 

_No._

 

_"Alexios..."_

 

_Stop._

 

_"Alexios..."_

 

_No. It's not him... It's not him!  
_

 

_"Alexios..."_

 

_He can't... He **won't** accept it._

 

 _The voice keeps whispering that wretched name like a mantra... echoing everywhere around him like a haunting tune he desperately wants to stop._ _He recognises that voice. He knows it well... too well, despite only hearing it screech in fear and gasp in pain as he watched life slowly seep away. It has been haunting him ever since that day in Athens, echoing in his head day and night, a plague he has willingly cursed himself with. With this last thought, a frigid tremor makes his entire body spasm, eyes blinking open only to be greeted by the same darkness that never ceases to coil around him like a snake, quiet and venomous, permanently on the edge of killing him. It's hard to breathe, blood roaring in his ears, heart beating slower and slower as an invisble force presses down on him. Eyes closing reflexively, he gasps in a vain attempt to fill his lungs with much needed air. The unseen snake wreathes tighter and his consciousness flickers akin to a candle in the wind, smaller and smaller with each passing second.  
_

 

 _The freezing sensation seeps into his bones like sharp crystals of ice. Will it break them? Will it break him? Eyelids twitch, but remain closed for he is afraid of what he might see if he opens them, afraid of glowing orbs mocking him, afraid of mangled limbs reaching out to rip him apart, afraid that he'll be thrown once again into a bloody chasm and simply disappear. Alone and forgotten. He's almost losing the battle to stay awake when a blinding light suddenly bursts behind closed eyelids, pure white making his skull throb in pain_ _. For what seems like an eternity, he waits for the diziness in his head to subside, eyes firmly shut as his muscles tingle with gradually spreading warmth.  
_

 

_The world shifts abruptly around him, he can sense it. Soon, he feels solid ground under his feet, a blessing that he doesn't deserve, but nonetheless received. He flinches when a hand grabs his, so small, and warm in contrast with his still cool one._

 

_"It's all right, there's nothing to fear."_

 

 _A deep frown mars his face then. The same voice from before. T_ _he words ring familiarity, unpleasantly soft in their childlike tone whilst his mind provides him with the memory of the last, meek plea that left her mouth when they cornered her. He... he remembers running away... always running... The sudden warmth that leaves a saline path down his cheeks startles him, tears falling on chapped lips, their sting a welcome wake-up call. When he does dare to open his eyes, the sight is breathtaking._

 

_He's in the very place that he has dreaded ever since he can remember. The place he has only seen from afar, afraid that everything he strived for, everything he trained would go to waste if he approaches. The place meant to end his life._

 

_"Beautiful, isn't it?" she whispers._

 

 _Lost for words, he merely nods. Mount Taygetos has been looming over his very existence from the moment he was thrown to his death, a permanent reminder that, from the very beginning, he had been forsaken by those who should have loved him most. He has never let that stop him. He shut off each and every part that was human, refusing to acknowledge the shards wedging themselves deeper and deeper into his heart. Pain... sorrow... resentment... **rage**_ _... They consumed him until all that was left resembled nothing but a shadow of who he was supposed to be... an empty shell where love and compassion should have thrived... a ghost of what was once meant to be great.  
_

 

_He tries to stop the tears, but they just keep falling, an endless river that has been contained for too long. His legs tremble under the weight of his turmoil and the hand holding his lets go, letting him fall to his knees, gravel digging into his skin as he struggles to suppress his pitiful sobs. Pointless. They leave him breathless as they intensify and, soon, he's all but wailing like a wounded beast, the ache in his heart unbearable. The agony is over just as fast as it began when two soft palms cup his face, lifting his head to look at the face he refused to envision._

 

_Understanding and compassion shine in the girl's eyes when he finally musters the courage to stare into them, two nearly golden orbs peering right into his soul._

 

_"I forgive you." she whispers. He sobs.  
_

 

_"Kassandra forgives you."_

 

_That name again._

 

_He sobs harder._

 

◇◇◇

 

Hazel eyes snap open to a sea of red, chest heaving with deep, arrhythmic gasps. It's like he's drowning in the blood of the innocents all over again. He feels hands on his shoulders and recoils from their touch as if burned. The only thing that guides his mind out of its gruesome realm is a gentle voice that he doesn't recognise but finds comfort in.

 

"Do not fear, o gios mou. Mater is here."

 

A palm rests on his forehead then glides to cup his cheek, the gentle touch wiping away the evidence of his weakness, somehow chasing away his panic until his eyes focus on the person looming over him. The woman reminds him of _her_. An aged mirror of the woman he fought. Silver strands foretell the old, glimmering as they twine with chestnut reminders of bygone days. Soulful eyes bore into his, a storm of emotions shining in them, from joy to sorrow, from relief to fear, from vulnerability to determination and finally to an overwhelming wave of unconditional love directed right at him. He tries to sit up, but her hands push harder on his shoulders and tells him to lean back. Naturally, he resists, but finds that his body has finally reached its limit and gives up, lying down on the hard hay mat. The absence of pain tells him that his sword healed him completely before they took it from him, leaving behind only the familiar itch of flesh and skin knitting back together. Despite this, he feels drained, tired... so, so tired. Tired of nigthmares and perplexing dreasm, tired fighting for a pointless cause, tired of being nothing but a puppet, tired of reining in the torrent of feelings that desperately wants to pour out. He's tired of living...

 

"Why...?" he asks without meaning to, tone void of any heat, any sign of sentience as he turns his head away from the woman's searching gaze. Terrible mistake for he is met with an amber glare from the man he saw earlier, now only a few feet away from him, sitting beside the woman that just won't leave him be. If looks could kill, he'd be dead ten times over and Hades himself would refuse to greet him again in the Underworld. He sneers back, his contempt equally clear.

 

"Kill me now because I will not hesitate to when I get the chance."

 

Behind him, Myrrine protests, but the words are just an unintelligible mumble. He can see the flame of rage ignite in the the man's eyes, wild, searing, yet holding a floe of glacial ice that could chill anyone to the bone. There is something latent underneath it all, a mirror of the man before him that possesses a force capable of such destruction that even the Spartan himself is not aware of, a force that only Deimos can see in him and understand its consequences. They break eye contact when the sleeping woman stirs with a groan of pain.

 

His blood boils when the officer's hands touch her, yet he does not know why. He watches as the Spartan helps her sit up, heart aching when he hears her say the man's name with unparalleled fondness and trust in her tone. Why it affects him so is a mystery, but that doesn't make it less vexing. He looks away, choosing to stare at the ceiling instead as his fists clench at his sides until his wrists turn white. From the corner of his eye, he sees Myrrine's knowing expression and all it does is makes things worse. Despite this, she says nothing and he is grateful. When gentle fingers wrap around his hand, he tenses, but doesn't pull away.

 

◇◇◇

 

The first thing she feels when she comes to, is a dull pain coursing through her entire body. The first thing she sees, is Brasidas' worried eyes staring down at her as his hand move to support her. The first thing her mind conjures up is her brother's name. She steals a few glances and the ire in orbs identical to her own makes the her heart beat faster while lips move to speak words of reassurance to her friend. If Brasidas notices, he doesn't bring it up. What he asks instead surprises her greatly.

 

"Do you want to talk to him alone?"

 

She hesitates, averting her gaze and wondering if he has already figured her out. It's wrong... how she feels, she knows as much and the fear of becoming an outcast once again because of it makes her livid.

 

All her distress evaporates at the touch of a steady hand pressing on her shoulder. When she looks at Brasidas, he is smiling. She knows then that he will not forsake her and she lifts her own hand to rest on his. Without another word, he stands up and looks at Myrrine, a silent conversation going on between them. Her mother gives her the same smile before she, too, stands and the two begin to walk away.

 

A deafening silence follows. She dares a look at Alexios, but he is still trying to burn a hole in the tent's ceiling. With both apprehension and a sudden need to get closer to him, she rises to her feet and approaches, kneeling beside him. He makes no move to look at her. With a deep breath, she prepares herself for the worst before she finally speaks.

 

"I... I know you don't remember, b-"

 

"Don't waste your breath, woman." he says quitely, a whisper of defeat clear in his voice as he finally looks at her "Nothing you say will change what I did. Nothing you say matters."

 

"Alexios, please."

 

"Don't call me that!"

 

"It's who you are!"

 

A long pause follows her outburst, anger, regret, frustration... everything she held in until now making her heart race in her ribcage as she blinks back tears. In a moment of folly, she reaches out for his hand, squeezing it tightly, never letting go, not even when he attempts to pull it back. Her voice trembles when she speaks, laced with both a hint of defeat and a sliver of hope.

 

"It's... it's who you've always been... You never stopped being part of this family, whether you remember or not. No one can deny this. No one can make me lose my faith in you. Not the Cult, not mater, not the gods... Not even _you_."

 

The determination and certainty in her tone must have taken him by surprise for his eyes widen slightly and his mouth opens, but no words come out. Their gazes never waver as they stare into each other's souls, hands still twined together. They flinch and she lets go when piercing screams and panicked shouts snap them out of their trance. Neither moves, listening to the commotion.

 

"Secure the gates!" Brasidas' baritone booms over the chaos. Then, he bursts through the tent's flaps, blood dribbling down his face "The Cult! We must leave! Now!"


	10. Αδελφές/Adelfés/Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes, I'm not dead. I feel so bad for updating like once every two months or more. Inspiration gave me big problems, despite the fact that ideas are there. I'm at that point where my mind is tired to cooperate with my writing capacity, but I'm still pushing on, I will continue this fic, no matter what!
> 
> This chapter focuses on quite a few characters, a new one as well. Maybe too many, but I hope it's balanced enough not to seem chaotic. Enjoy!

 

It only takes a moment of inattention for Kassandra to find herself on the ground, her own sword threatening to cut her throat at Alexios' will while Brasidas' spear is inches away from her brother's heart.

 

"You move, I kill her."

 

"Maláka! She saved you, and this is how you repay her!?"

 

It's the first time Brasidas adresses the man and Kassandra's eyes widen at the anger in his usually reserved voice. There is a resentment there that she should feel, but doesn't, her mind rummaging instead for ways to prevent Alexios from going back to the Cult. After all, she did promise to herself that nothing will stop her from bringing him back. She will not lose faith.

 

Alexios' baritone is sinisterly soft when he replies, in his eyes playing the very same mad glint he had when he killed Perikles "I never asked to be saved." he sneers, the blade's tip now resting on Kassandra's neck as he looks at her with wild eyes "Any last words?"

 

Her voice doesn't waver "You won't kill me."

 

The cruel smirk that she has seen so many times twists his expression into something almost demonic, sword digging into Kassandra's flesh, nearly puncturing bronze skin "Oh? You sound so sure. Tell me, wench, why wouldn't I slit your throat right here, right now?"

 

Instead of answering, her eyes meet Brasidas' in silent reassurance before she speaks, vehement and clear "Go." she sees the man's mouth open in protest, but cuts him off "Find mater and go! I'll be fine!"

 

"Yes, little Spartan, run like the coward you are."

 

Worry, fury and frustration flash across Brasidas' face all at once and his wrists turn white from how tight his hold is on his spear. She sees him hesitate for a moment, but his resolve soon hardens. With a curt nod and a look of resignation, he bolts out of the tent, leaving the two siblings in a deafening silence. There is not a single doubt clouding her mind that Brasidas and Myrrine will survive, they are both seasoned warriors, strong and resourceful.

 

So is she.

 

Her lips tilt into a knowing smirk when she pushes her neck further against the blade and she feels a nearly imperceptible waver "You won't do it because you know I'm right. You know they're using you." There's a slight pause before she continues in a woeful tone "You're nothing but a puppet to them, a pawn to help them achieve their vile goals."

 

She presses harder and, this time, she feels the swords withdraw slightly, no longer threatening to sink into her throat. There is no hint of emotion on Alexios' face, but something flickers in his eyes and her smirk turns into a gentle smile.

 

"You won't kill me because you _can't_. Because, no matter how much you hate me or how hard you try deny it, you _care_. You care enough to let me live, even if that means going against the Cult... even if that brings you closer to Thánatos."

 

Jaw clenched, lips set into a grim line, eyes wide in what can only be an unwanted revelation. He paints a picture of utter torment, her words sinking into his mind deeper and deeper with each passing second. She watches on whilst he struggles with his demons, hand slowly lifting to nudge the blade away from her throat.

 

Wrong decision.

 

As fast as it crumbled, the mask of simmering rage takes over his expression again and she barely manages to avoid the swing meant to sever her head. Still, it's too late. She has already peered into his inner war with the conflicted wave of emotions that threatens to drown him into a sea of madness. She already knows that, however meager, there is hope. There's still a slim chance to get her brother back.

 

◇◇◇

 

Swing after swing after swing, his vision grows hazier and hazier until all he is able to somewhat discern is her blurry form as she evades his attacks. With each passing second, the heat surging through his body becomes unbearable, the roar of his blood pounding in his ears in tandem with the erratic thrum of his heart as whispers echo in his head, louder and louder with each strike. _  
_

 

 _"Stop!"_ screeches a high-pitched voice. _  
_

 

By Zeus, he wants to. He desperately wants to, but his own body seems to be no longer his to control. Something dark and primal clouds his judgement. It sneers at him to kill her and everyone who betrayed him, it growls with rage and desperation, it whimpers with memories of pain and abandon. And he... he lashes out again and again, even whilst his soul cries and fights the beast that he's been trying to control his entire life.

 

 _"Stop, you fool!"_ a bellow follows. _  
_

 

A tremor cuts through the numbness of his being and he suddenly feels drained, muscles lax and unresponsive as his sight fades from buzzing white into pitch black, lured into oblivion by a trembling, raspy murmur.

 

 _"Sleep, child. Sleep."_  

 

And he does. He lets it all drift away into nothingness.

 

◇◇◇

 

Alexios falls apart before her eyes, movements hasty and shambolic, sweat glistening on his now feverish skin. There are no signs that he can even see her, pupils blown wide, swallowing any trace of colour into their Stygian abyss. Charge after charge, strike after strike, his attacks become slower, up to the point where she doesn't even need to move more than a step to avoid them.

 

"No... no... I can't."

 

She listens to him whisper the words again and again whilst he continues his rampage, a hopeless mantra that makes her heart ache at the pure agony lacing it. When he falls to his knees, tears flowing down his cheeks, her own eyes begin to sting with guilt as she rushes to catch him before his body meets the ground. Something inside her snaps. She is no longer able to suppress the sob that escapes her lips as she closes her eyes and holds him close, resting her head against his.

 

The cultist guards that find them hesitate for a moment before they approach with cautious steps, swords drawn, shields ready to deflect any onslaught. She hears them getting closer, of course she does, it's hard to miss the trudging of at least a dozen men, but she makes no move to defend herself or attack them.

 

Taking in a deep breath, she slowly opens her eyes to glare at them, anger and determination mingling into one. With gentle motions, she lays Alexios on the gravelly ground and takes the sword from his limp hand.

 

She will fight. No matter the odds, she will always fight for what is right and she will continue to do so until her very last breath.

 

◇◇◇

 

_The voices seem so distant and muffled, but the wrath in their words sings to him like the soothing tune of a siren._

 

_"How dare you meddle with destiny? Trespassing on mater's dominion is forbidden!"_

 

_"Our blood is running through his veins! I couldn't turn a blind eye to his torment even if I wanted to."_

 

_"He is still a mortal!"_

 

_Are they arguing because of him?_

 

_"Mater will not take this lightly." a soft voice echoes in contradiction to the fervid conversation.  
_

 

_"Ananke can come to me if she has any complaints."_

 

_"Insolence! We should send you to Hades this instant, let y-"_

 

_"Enough."_

 

_Silence falls forthwith, brought by the same hoarse voice that lulled him into darkness._

 

_"Lady Aphrodite speaks true, adelfés. Mortal as he is, the blood coursing through his veins makes him one of us. She is not entirely at fault. His blood is the only reason for this aberration, the only reason his very fate could be changed."_

 

_No one has the audacity to speak._

 

_"However, this transgression cannot go unpunished. I'm afraid that the price he must pay for choosing to alter his own kismet is high... And so is yours, my Lady."  
_

 

_With a flick of the wrist, a glowing circle appears around the goddess, golden bars rising from the ground to form a cage around her. She doesn't fight it, incarnadine orbs dim with resignation as she looks at the old Moira._

 

_"You can punish me however you please. You can let Cerberos devour me or send me to the deepest chasms of the Underworld, but, prithee, let him go. Give him back what he has forsaken. Let him live..."_

 

_Sad, olden eyes stare at her unblinkingly._

 

_"Ápage."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ananke is the personification of inevitability, compulsion and necessity. One of the Greek primordial deities, the births of Ananke and her brother and consort, Chronos were thought to mark the division between the eon of Chaos and the beginning of the cosmos. Ananke was considered the most powerful dictator of fate and circumstance; mortals as well as gods respected her power and paid her homage. Sometimes considered the mother of the Fates, she was thought to be the only being to influence their decisions (according to some sources, excepting Zeus also)." - Wikipedia
> 
> "Ápage" means "begone".


	11. Γυναίκα από Hάλυβα/Gynaíka apó Hályva/Woman of Steel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is really short compared to the other chapters, but the intensity of it might compensate for the lack of actual story progression. 
> 
> I chose to write this and focus only on Kassandra instead of going further with the "god situation" because I'm having some trouble with the complexity of that aspect. I can't promise the next chapter will get back to Alexios, but I will try to post it before I leave for Italy (scholarship stuff). Hope you like it!

She doesn't see it, but she feels its warm slide down her temple, then her cheek before finally it leaves her skin, only a trace of scarlet marking its descent. Another drop of her very life falls into the warm, viscous abyss under her legs, the gashes in her thighs horrendous yet fascinating in their raw display of bones, muscles and sinews that strain with the agony of being stretched into a kneel. When she makes even the slightest move to alleviate at least a fraction of the stabbing pain, she is reminded of the wall of iron spikes digging into her back as the collar around her neck prevents her from getting farther away. Grinding her teeth, she inhales and exhales slowly through her nose, an effort to keep the pain at bay. To no avail, for the sweat trickling down scarred skin makes her wounds sting each time it drips into open flesh, the cracks in her lips oozing blood whilst a dry tongue slides out occasionally in a desperate attempt to wet them with laps of almost nonexistent spit.

 

Blinking rapidly, she tries to regain feeling in her swollen eyelids, to chase away the stinging drowsiness for the umpteenth time since she has been captured. Sadly, regardless of her efforts, she learned that, in the end, they always win. Still... she tries to _focus_ on something, _anything_ other than the unyielding burn in her thews, the itching sensation of her desiccating skin drawn thin and taut over her face, the shadows obscuring her vision, playing with flickers of flames from time to time. Pointless, exhaustion took its toll on her body hours ago... days... maybe even weeks, she doesn't know. It's been so dark for _so_   _long_. Time is merely a concept that only seems to exist in her head as it spins in tandem with a throbbing headache that hammers her skull harder and harder the longer she survives their torture.

 

Here, in this numb, Stygian infinite, she waits for them to return and heal her like they always do before the nightmare begins anew. She waits for their mocking words and cruel sneers, their sharpened blades and relentless blows... their roaming hands and desecrating slurs. She waits for them to try to break her again and again, but she will never yield and she will never die because she made a vow, because she still has hope and, despite it all, she doesn't regret the choices that led her to such torment. How could she when they are the ones that brought Alexios to her? It seems like eons ago. The first time she held her baby brother, wide eyes, not yet hazel, but bright blue, peering up at her from a cherubic face. The first time she promised to always be there for him, the joyful giggle that followed still echoing in her mind. It's a memory that brings both equanimity and regret in her heart. A life she lost. A life _they_ all lost. A life that will never exist again and seems like it never truly existed in the first place.

 

Perhaps that is why the initial revulsion towards her own feelings for Alexios lasted merely three days after their passionate encounter before subsiding and transitioning into acceptance. The time they spent together had been so short when they were little that neither her mind nor her emotions associate the man she met with the chubby-cheeked child Nikolaos and Myrrine presented her with. It is simply a connection she isn't able to form, blood be damned. And maybe she is mad, maybe she is disgusting for reaching this conclusion and letting these sentiments weasel their way like filigree into her fragmented heart, but, when she's with him, she feels complete, the half of her soul that has been missing finally merging with its faithful twin.

 

And that is why she will continue to fight. Once upon a time, she promised to protect him with her life. She _failed_. It will not happen again. No matter how hard the Cult tries to crush her very soul or if the odds are against her entirely, she won't fail him again.

 

The thud of heavy footsteps accompanied by clinks of armour snaps Kassandra out of her reverie, gleams of red, gold and orange dancing before her hazy eyes. Familiar sniggers reach her ears then the sound of a lock clicking open, followed by the harsh sound of metal scraping against the ground as the bastards entered her cell. Involuntarily, she shivers, but shows no sign of moving or speaking. She feels the pleasant itch of tendons, muscles and skin knitting back together on her thighs. And, oh, how she dreads this illusory reprieve. It would be foolish of her to forget that it won't last... that it is nothing but a way for them to give her hell on an endless loop of misery.

 

Taking in a deep breath, she steels herself. The rain of fists and kicks comes soon after that.


	12. Μία Ψυχή, Δύο Όντα/Mía Psychí, Dýo Ónta/One Soul, Two Beings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo! As promised, here is another chapter and I must say I am quite pleased with it, although I really wanted to make it longer. But, in order to keep my focus on separate characters and situations, I think it suits my story better to keep the chapters shorter for now.
> 
> It will probably take some time until I post the next one, but rest assured that, after I get my shit together and adapt to the new environment called Italy, I will post more frequently. Ah, the benefit of a scholarship, peace and so much leisure time.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_Time does not exist where he is. Only darkness. Tenebrous, endless darkness. And voices. Murmured lullabies and joyous laughter, booming shouts and mocking sniggers, muffled cries and desperate pleas. He is grateful. They distract him from the feeling of a myriad lacerations slicing through his flesh, setting his senses ablaze with embers of agony and flares of repressed memories._

 

_Someone... a woman whispers a name he knows, yet feels it's foreign now._

 

_"Deimos."_

 

_It sounds like a curse, lethal... eternal. More sibilations follow, vile and derisive. He feels forlorn, pitiful.  
_

 

_"Get up, pathetic child. You are useless."_

 

_He thinks he shivers. He's not sure._

 

_" **Weak.** You are weak. A disappointment to your family, a disgrace to your ancestors. No one wants you. No one would have given you a chance if not for me! Get up and fight!"  
_

 

_Grey orbs flash before his mind's eye and he recoils._

 

_"You are **nothing!** "_

 

◇◇◇

 

A sharp pang of woe stabs at her core. It is not the first time it happens and the source is not a mystery to her, yet she has no choice but to push it aside as delicate fingers brush the gilded bars of her cage, frigid clouds of mist enveloping its glowing form as she awaits her punishment. She knows Ananke will be furious. It is not the first time her actions go against the very balance of her sister's power over fate, but how could she forsake the desperate cries of a hybrid crushed by the harrowing burden of his own heart. From the moment he was brought into the world, he was condemned to a life plagued by loneliness, suffering and fear, without any chance of escaping its relentless trials until the right time arrived for him to meet the other half of his soul. It had been no secret that the morality of this connection will be questioned, many aspects of their own godly existences are rather dubious, but she didn't expect to be summoned with such passionate despair to erase the only source of happiness the half-mortal inevitably found in the arms of his sister. What allowed her to interfere with his sealed destiny is still unclear, yet the blood that courses through his veins called out to her, sharp, potent, _primordial_ , just like the poignant scent of her sweet roses, a trance that she cannot resist.

 

The goddess' musings are interrupted by the sudden billow dissipating around her to let golden rays cascade over her pale skin. From afar, she feels the seething ire colouring her sister's aura, growing harsher and harsher with every slow, graceful step. It's not long before Ananke stands merely inches away from her gilt aviary, posture tense and imposing, straight silver tresses flowing down her back like a sparkling waterfall as it seemingly blends with the snowy pallor of her skin, forehead marred by the tell tale wrinkles of furrowed brows. Pupiless hoar eyes stare at her unblinkingly, lips set into a firm line whilst fingers twitch slightly at Ananke's sides. Neither speaks for a while, a silent conversation storming in their gazes as their wills clash.

 

When she finally speaks, Ananke's words are cold and scathing "After all I've done for you, dear sister, here we are yet again as you continue your quest to disappoint me beyond reconciliation. Was it not enough that you defied me and trifled with fate so many times that I was ridiculed by Primordials and mortals alike? Was it not enough to trick Theseus and kill Hippolytus on a whim? To curse Glaucus and Polyphonte without remorse? Was it not enough to lay waste to glorious armies, to take the lives of noble men and bring torment to the innocents in a pointless war? Was it not enough that I showed you mercy without hesitation, that I have forgiven each mistake and irreverence? Why do you continue to weave chaos among gods and men, to undermine my authority whensoever a chance arises?"

 

For a long while, only the sound of their soft breaths permeates the dense air between them, lilac eyes refusing to meet tempestuous white orbs. Perhaps it is guilt that keeps Aphrodite from doing so, perhaps it is the certainty that, this time, she did nothing wrong by intervening, a certainty that in and of itself represents the kind of impudence that may very well sentence her to an eternity in the deepest chasms of the Underworld. Despite the proverbial scythe hanging above her neck, she decides to remain impassive and honest, ready for the worst outcome. Her voice doesn't waver when, at last, she replies.

 

"I won't deny the error of my ways, nor will I try to atone for my actions, but you are aware that I alone could not alter destiny without father's help."

 

"Yet now you didn't need his power at all."

 

"And you know very well why! Do not feign ignorance for the sake of blaming me for this."

 

There's a short pause while her sister ponders her retort, eyes narrowed as she stares stares at her impassively "He might have primordial blood, but that does not give you the right to play with his life. You even broke the tenets of your own domain, estranging him from his soulmate."

 

Aphrodite's response holds latent fury "I couldn't stop it, don't you understand!? I tried to make him see reason, to warn him of what would happen if I erase any memory of _her_. It was an absurd attempt, the decision had been imbued in his blood. It bewitched me. It made me obey his wishes..."

 

"And that is why he is dangerous and must be dealt with immediately."

 

Ananke's words speak truth, their final meaning clear, surprising her with a sense of overwhelming sorrow at the thought that, after all the misery and heartache he has gone through, Thanatos might claim the mortal's because she was too weak to resist his primordial ancestry. In hindsight, Ananke should understand her predicament because she holds the same primordial power over Aphrodite. Still, her sister chooses to be blind.

 

Perhaps she has wronged Ananke too much... Perhaps fate's patience reached its limit... Perhaps... it is time to receive her penalty. Perhaps, she deserves it... But the hybrid doesn't...

 

"Please... Spare him..."

 

The answer is sharp, unyielding to any impulse of pity "I will decide your punishment once I settle this matter. Until then, you will do well to remember that you are my sister merely in name, for you are part of me as much as I am part of you, a sliver of my quintessence that I have gifted Zeus and Dioni to raise as their own, a sliver that I can obliterate in an instant if I so choose."

 

With a weary expression and a dismissive, yet elegant wave, Aphrodite is plunged into a freezing moonless void, her only companion the shimmering radiance of her cage and a deafening silence.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to clear some things up regarding this chapter. So, as I've mentioned before, Ananke is one of Greek primordial deities linked to fate, BUT, aside from that, she is also often identified or associated with Aphrodite Ourania, the representation of abstract celestial love. Now this Aphrodite and the mainstream one (all about love, beauty, pleasure, lust etc) are very different.
> 
> Inserting Wikipedia explanation here:
> 
> In Hesiod's "Theogony", Aphrodite is born off the coast of Cythera from the foam (aphrós) produced by Uranus's genitals, which his son Cronus has severed and thrown into the sea. In Homer's "Iliad", however, she is the daughter of Zeus and Dioni. Plato, in his "Symposium", asserts that these two origins actually belong to separate entities: Aphrodite Ourania (a transcendent, "Heavenly" Aphrodite) and Aphrodite Pandemos (Aphrodite common to "all the people").
> 
> Wikipedia explanation ends here.
> 
> As a result, I came up with this intetesting idea to make them sisters, but not really. Therefore, I have come up with the concept of Aphrodite Ourania giving a part of her essence to Zeus and Dioni to create their own kind of love child.
> 
> I just made Greek mythology 1000 times more difficult to keep up with. Hope it makes sense though :))


End file.
